Where there's smoke, there's fire
Let The Good Times Roll: Chapter Four
Steve Harrington x Hargrove OC
summary: The morning after Tina's party, Hawkins High has already decided what happened between Darcy Hargrove and Steve Harrington. As rumors spiral and reputations take on lives of their own, Darcy finds herself caught between the version of Steve everyone knows and the boy she met the night before. While football games, cheer practices and gossip carry the town through another Friday, Darcy begins to realize that seeing someone clearly isn't nearly as simple as everyone makes it look.
Note: Where there's smoke, there's fire = idiom meaning that persistent rumors, hints, or minor signs usually indicate underlying truth.
Hawkins was not a town that knew how to wake up quickly.
In San Diego, mornings arrived with confidence. The sun came over the Pacific like it had somewhere to be, spilling gold across the water before most people had even opened their curtains. Even the cold there had been temporary. A jacket thrown over your shoulders. Bare feet on tile floors that were only slightly too cold.
Everything in California felt like it was already moving.
Hawkins did the opposite.
The town woke slowly. Reluctantly. Especially in late October.
Morning fog settled over the roads before sunrise, hanging low over the fields and swallowing the edges of everything familiar. Trees disappeared into gray. Street signs looked older than they were. The houses along Cherry Lane sat quiet behind bare branches, windows dark, curtains drawn.
The cold here had weight.
It wasn't sharp like the ocean air back home. It wasn't something you noticed and moved past.
It seeped into the wooden floors of old houses. It lived inside the walls. It waited in the driver's seat of a car overnight and turned the steering wheel into something frozen and sharp.
Darcy hated that most. Not the temperature. The permanence.
The problem with mornings was that they always seemed to disappear faster than they should. One second she was asleep, and the next she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror with a hairbrush in one hand and a growing sense of panic in the other.
She skipped breakfast. Not because she meant to. It just never happened.
Twenty minutes disappeared trying to make her hair look like she spent last night worrying. The house was silent beneath her.
But silence and peace were two different things.
The floorboards downstairs had their own language. Even now, she knew which ones creaked, which ones complained, which ones gave away movement before anyone actually appeared.
She knew the sound of him waking up.
The heavy steps. The slow pace. The way the entire house seemed to become aware of him before he even entered a room.
She didn't want to be there when that happened.
Didn't want the questions. Didn't want the careful, fake concern that always felt worse than anger.
So she grabbed a torn piece of paper from the kitchen counter and wrote the first thing that came to mind.
Got a ride with a friend! It was vague enough to be believable.
She left it beside the empty coffee mug sitting in the sink, grabbed her backpack, and slipped out the back door before the sun had properly reached the trees.
The burgundy BMW waited in the driveway.
It looked almost ridiculous sitting outside the house. Too polished. Too expensive. Too clean against the peeling paint and cracked concrete.
The windshield was covered in frost, glittering faintly under the weak morning light. She climbed inside, dropped her bag into the passenger seat, and turned the key.
The engine started with a quiet rumble. Hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Breath fogging against the glass. The heater slowly pushing out air that was technically warm but not yet useful.
Outside, Hawkins remained mostly asleep.
Porch lights glowed behind curtains. Newspapers sat untouched at the ends of driveways. A dog barked somewhere far away and then stopped.
Even the birds seemed unwilling to commit to making noise.
She checked the clock. Thirty minutes. That was all she had.
Thirty minutes to get to the Harrington house, swap seats, and get to Hawkins High before the first bell.
In a town this small, thirty minutes should have been nothing.
But the roads were slick with morning damp, the fog had swallowed half the countryside, and Darcy had learned quickly that Hawkins had a strange ability to make distances feel longer than they were.
Steve Harrington did not strike Darcy as someone who slept late.
Not because he was responsible. He wasn't.
But because Steve seemed like someone who was physically incapable of being still.
Even exhausted, even miserable, even after crying in front of someone he barely knew, there was always something restless about him. Like he was waiting for the next thing.
The BMW rolled into the Harrington driveway just as the sun finally broke through the trees.
The Harrington house looked exactly how Darcy remembered.
The kind of place that made you wonder how many rooms people could possibly need. A light was on in the kitchen window.
She wouldn't have to sit outside and freeze. She had barely put the car into park before the front door opened.
He looked awful. Not dramatically awful, just tired.
The skin beneath his eyes was darker than usual. His shoulders sat slightly lower. His hair, somehow, was still perfect.
Darcy had a suspicion that Steve Harrington could wake up after a house fire and his first instinct would still be fixing his hair.
He carried his backpack in one hand. And something wrapped in white kitchen paper in the other. She rolled down the window.
Cold air immediately rushed inside. "Morning, Harrington."
Steve smiled. Small. Not the one he used at school.
Not the easy grin that made girls stop walking and guys look twice. Something quieter. "You gonna get out?"
She looked at him. Then looked at the steering wheel. Then back at him. "But I'm already here."
Steve leaned against the roof of the car. "Yeah."
"And I got your car back in one piece."
"So technically you should be thanking me."
"No, you're stealing your own car back."
A laugh escaped him. Small, but real. "Darcy."
"I know the back roads better."
"That is not what I'm worried about."
She narrowed her eyes. Steve looked toward the dashboard. "Also it's my car."
The silence that followed was immediate. Darcy stared. "You have rules?"
"That is deeply concerning."
Steve Harrington was many things. Annoying, occasionally. Overconfident, usually.
A little too aware of the fact that his hair somehow survived every possible weather condition known to Indiana.
But Darcy had never once considered him the kind of person who had rules about his car. She sighed dramatically, grabbing her backpack from the passenger seat.
Steve stepped back. "Fine?"
"But I want it noted that this is unnecessary."
"You don’t seem to be doing anything."
She climbed over the centre console, knees knocking against the glove compartment as she moved into the passenger seat. Steve watched her with an amused expression, shaking his head slightly before opening the driver's side door.
The difference was immediate. The second he sat down, the car seemed to belong to him again. Not because of the keys. Because of the familiarity.
He adjusted the mirrors without thinking. Moved the seat back exactly the amount he needed. Rested one hand on the wheel like he had done it a thousand times before.
Which, Darcy supposed, he probably had. For someone who acted like he owned half of Hawkins, there was something strangely normal about watching Steve Harrington sit in his car before school.
Just a boy. Not King Steve. Not the guy everyone watched walking through the halls. Just Steve.
He started the engine. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
The heater filled the silence, pushing warm air through the vents. Outside, the trees moved slowly in the morning wind, their branches black against the pale sky.
Then Steve spoke. "Thanks."
He kept his eyes on the windshield. "Last night."
The answer was quieter than she expected. Not embarrassed exactly. Honest.
She leaned back in her seat. "You don't have to thank me for that."
Steve glanced at her. "You saw me crying."
His mouth twitched. "I'm serious."
He looked back at the road. Darcy watched his hands tighten slightly around the steering wheel.
The thing about Steve Harrington was that everyone knew what he looked like when he was confident.
Everyone knew the smile.The effortless way he walked through school like the entire building had been designed for him.
Nobody really talked about what happened when all of that disappeared. When there was no audience. No reputation to maintain.
Just a seventeen-year-old boy sitting in his car, trying to figure out what came next.
"You looked like you were about to drive into a ditch," Darcy said.
Steve frowned slightly. "What?"
"Last night. You looked like you were about to drive into a ditch."
"You were one dramatic turn away from becoming a local news story."
That earned a small laugh. "You have a really comforting way of talking to people."
The corner of his mouth lifted. It was the first time Darcy had seen him smile properly since he stepped onto the porch.
Steve reached down beside the seat and picked up the small white package.
He held it out. Darcy looked at it. Then at him. "What is that?"
"Thought you might be hungry."
Steve shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
"You said you liked grilled cheese."
The package landed in her hands. It was warm. Not slightly warm from sitting in the car. Properly warm. The kind of warmth that came from being made recently.
Darcy looked down at the folded paper. The edges were neat. Someone had taken time with it.
For some reason, that was the thing that caught her off guard. Not Steve crying. Not Steve admitting he didn't know what to do.
The grilled cheese. Because crying was easy to understand. People cried when things hurt. But a sandwich required remembering. It required waking up and thinking about someone else.
Steve Harrington was supposed to be a lot of things. Thoughtful was not one Darcy had ever put on the list.
"Ham and cheese," he said.
She looked at him. "You remembered?"
Steve shrugged. "I don't know. You mentioned it." In the middle of the night. A passing comment. "I cant really sit still a lot of the time. It gave me something to do this morning."
Something she had said without thinking. Something most people would have forgotten five minutes later.
Darcy looked back down at the package. "Thanks, Steve."
The words came out quieter than she intended. He just nodded. "Yeah."
She unwrapped it carefully. The smell filled the car almost immediately.
Butter. Toasted bread. Melted cheese.
It was ridiculous how much better it was than the sad banana currently sitting crushed at the bottom of her backpack.
She took a bite. And unfortunately, because the universe apparently enjoyed making her suffer, it was perfect.
Steve glanced over. "Good?"
Darcy swallowed. "Annoyingly."
He smiled. "I'll take that."
The road stretched ahead of them. Hawkins was slowly waking up now.
Cars appeared on the streets. Lights flickered on behind windows. People began moving through the fog.
For a while, they just drove. It wasn't uncomfortable. Darcy was usually good at filling silence. Usually good at turning awkward moments into jokes before anyone noticed they existed.
This quiet felt different. Less like something that needed fixing. More like something they were both allowed to sit in.
Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "So."
Darcy glanced over. "So?"
She waited. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “Could you maybe not tell anyone?"
There it was. The reason. The thing he had been building toward since they left the driveway.
Darcy looked out the window. "About the crying?"
She looked back at him. "Don't worry, Harrington."
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Your reputation is safe."
"I won't tell anyone you cried in your car."
"Or that you made me breakfast."
Steve looked embarrassed. "Why would that matter?"
"Because people would never believe you were capable of being nice."
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then frowned. "Is that a compliment?"
He shook his head. A few seconds passed.
Then Darcy added: "I haven't even told Billy."
Steve's expression changed immediately. His foot lifted slightly off the gas. "Billy?"
His eyebrows pulled together. "Are you guys..."
He made a vague motion with his hand. Darcy stared. "Are we what?"
The disgust was immediate. "No."
Steve looked relieved. "Okay."
The relief disappeared. He looked confused. "Wait."
"You're Billy Hargrove's sister?"
Steve stared at her. Stared like this was some impossible piece of information that needed time to process. "But you're not awful."
"You absolutely meant that."
"That my brother is awful?"
Steve hesitated. Darcy raised an eyebrow.
A smile finally broke across his face. A real one. And for a second, Darcy saw it.
The boy underneath everything. Not the King. Not the reputation. Steve.
The rest of the drive passed faster than Darcy expected. Maybe because Steve was easier to talk to than she had anticipated.
Or maybe because, for the first time since moving to Hawkins, she didn't feel like she was trying so hard.
That was the strange thing. Darcy had spent the last few weeks figuring out the rules of this town.
Who mattered. Who didn't. Who sat with who at lunch. Which teachers could be charmed and which ones couldn't.
Hawkins was smaller than San Diego, but somehow the social hierarchy was just as complicated.
In California, popularity had felt obvious. There were parties, beach bonfires, expensive cars, people who were constantly photographed at the right places with the right people.
Hawkins was different. Here, popularity was built on history. Everyone had known each other since childhood. Everyone knew everyone's parents.
Everyone knew who had dated who, who had gotten in trouble, who had moved away, who had come back.
There was no escaping your reputation. And Darcy Hargrove had one. Not just because she was Billy's sister. Not just because of the car she drove or the house she lived in.
Because she was Darcy. Cheerleader. California girl.
The one people still whispered about because she had arrived halfway through the year and somehow managed to fit herself into Hawkins High like she'd always belonged there.
The old version of Darcy would have pretended she hated it. The new version of Darcy was honest enough to admit there was something addictive about walking into a room and feeling everyone notice.
Which was why the second the burgundy BMW pulled into the parking lot, everyone looked.
The car rolled into its usual spot near the front entrance. The engine clicked softly as it cooled. Neither of them moved.
Outside, the world continued.
Students crossed the parking lot in groups. Cheerleaders walked toward the gym. Football players shouted across the pavement.
But there was a shift. A pause, a moment where everyone collectively realised something interesting was happening.
Darcy glanced through the windshield. "Oh."
"You say that like you aren't enjoying it."
He looked at her. "Seriously?"
A pause. "Maybe a little."
Steve shook his head, but there was a smile pulling at his mouth. "You are unbelievable."
"And yet you made me breakfast."
His smile disappeared. "Okay. Don't bring that up."
"Because it's embarrassing."
"Making toast for someone who stole my car."
Darcy laughed. And then they got out. Heads turned almost immediately.
Not because Darcy was with Steve. Because Darcy was with Steve.
Everyone knew Darcy Hargrove. Everyone knew Steve Harrington. They were not background characters in Hawkins High. They were the kind of people who got noticed when they walked into a room.
Tessa, standing near the entrance with Chrissy and Liz, saw them first.
Her eyes widened. Then slowly, a grin appeared. "Oh my God."
Liz followed her gaze. "No way."
Chrissy blinked. "Is that Darcy?"
Darcy saw them immediately. Unfortunately. Because Tessa's expression meant trouble.
Steve leaned slightly closer. "Your friends?"
Darcy smiled. "Good luck."
"You aren't coming with me?"
"You're popular enough to survive without me."
Steve gave her an offended look. "That's not how friendship works."
Darcy stopped. Just slightly. Because he said it so casually. Friendship. Like it was obvious. Like this was already something.
She recovered quickly. "See you around, Harrington."
And then they separated. Which should have ended it. Except Hawkins High had never been good at letting things end.
By the time Darcy reached her locker, Tessa was already waiting. Arms crossed. Expression unbearable.
"I haven't said anything."
"I have so many things to say."
Liz leaned against the locker beside them. "For the record, I support whatever this is."
"That's exactly what someone in a whatever would say."
Darcy sighed. "I drove him to school."
Tessa raised an eyebrow. "After disappearing from Tina’s last night?"
"That somehow makes it worse." Liz chipped in.
Liz grinned. "Because it's Steve Harrington’s car"
Darcy rolled her eyes. "You are ridiculous."
Chrissy smiled softly. "Did something happen?"
Darcy looked at her. "Why is everyone acting like I committed a crime?"
"Because you and Steve Harrington don't exactly have quiet personalities."
That was unfortunately true. Darcy Hargrove and Steve Harrington were both people people noticed. Steve had his reputation. Darcy had hers.
Two people who were used to being watched suddenly being watched together was always going to become a thing.
Tessa lowered her voice slightly.
Darcy sighed. "Of course they are."
Tessa laughed. "They're just surprised."
"Because Steve Harrington has always been Steve Harrington."
"Well.. everyone saw him and nancy fighting last night" That didn't explain anything.
Tessa smiled. “Its just interesting timing.”
Darcy opened her mouth. Then stopped. Because she couldn't argue with that.
"Relax," Tessa said. "I'm not saying anything is happening."
"I'm just saying..." She glanced down the hallway. At Steve.
At Nancy, standing with Jonathan. At the way Steve looked completely lost despite being surrounded by people.
"Maybe it's good for him to have someone who doesn't see him as King Steve."
Darcy followed her gaze. For once, she didn't have a sarcastic response. Because that was the thing she was beginning to realise.
Steve Harrington wasn't nearly as simple as everyone thought. And maybe neither was she.
By third period, Darcy had learned one very important thing about Hawkins High. Rumours did not travel. They multiplied.
The original story had probably been simple. Steve Harrington drove Darcy Hargrove to school.
That was it. A fact. A completely harmless, painfully ordinary fact.
Somewhere between first and third period, however, it had apparently evolved into: Steve Harrington and Darcy Hargrove had arrived together after disappearing from the same party.
Which had somehow become: Steve Harrington was avoiding Nancy Wheeler.
Which had somehow become: Steve Harrington and Darcy Hargrove were a thing.
Which was impressive, considering Darcy herself had not been informed of that last development.
She found out in the hallway, standing by the water fountain, trying to convince herself that the sound of half the school whispering was not actually about her, when Quincy appeared beside her.
"You need to fix your face."
Darcy looked over. "What?"
"No, it's doing the thing."
"The thing where you pretend you're not noticing something while very obviously noticing something."
Darcy ducked down and took a sip of water. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Quinn looked past her. "Three girls from sophomore year just stopped talking when you walked by."
"Not usually while staring at your shoes."
She was wearing her usual oversized denim jacket, dark jeans, and boots. Normal. Comfortable.
Very much not the green-and-gold cheer uniform she was supposed to be wearing.
Quinn noticed the second she looked. "Oh my God."
Darcy frowned. "Im.. wearing clothes?"
She gestured dramatically at Darcy's outfit. Darcy looked down at herself. "What?"
Quinn’s expression changed from disbelief to genuine horror. "You forgot."
"I've had other things going on."
Darcy opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Because unfortunately, "watching Steve Harrington cry in his car woods and then getting breakfast from him" was not a normal excuse.
Besides, she’d promised she wouldn't say anything about the crying.
Quinn crossed her arms. "Exactly."
Chrissy and Tessa appeared beside them, carrying her books against their chests. "What did we miss?"
"Darcy forgot her uniform."
Chrissy gasped softly. "Darce."
"You can't forget game day."
Tessa glared at her “is something going on?”
Liz walked up, immediately sensing the situation. "What happened?"
"Steve Harrington happened," Tessa said.
Darcy immediately turned. "Tessa."
"What? Everyone already knows."
Liz looked between them. "Wait. What happened?"
Darcy sighed."Nothing happened."
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "That's what people say right before something happened."
Chrissy tilted her head. "Do you want my uniform?"
Darcy looked at her. "No, you're too tall."
"That's not how height works."
"It is with cheer skirts."
Tessa laughed. "Come on. I've got an extra."
The cheer locker room smelled exactly like it always did.
Hairspray. Perfume. Old wooden benches. The faint, permanent scent of sweat that no amount of cleaning had ever fully removed.
It was familiar. Comforting, in a weird way. This was the part of Hawkins that had become easy.
Friendships, routines.The fact that Darcy knew exactly where Tessa kept spare ribbons and which locker belonged to which girl.
Moving to Indiana had been strange. But not everything about it had been. She wasn't starting over. Not completely.
Tessa dug through her bag. "Here."
Darcy caught the uniform. Then immediately frowned. "This is yours."
Tessa shrugged. "It's normal."
"I am not fitting into this."
"You haven't even tried!."
Five minutes later, Darcy stood in front of the locker room mirror.
She was wrong. Technically.
The skirt was shorter than she remembered. The top half sat tighter around her shoulders. The whole thing felt like it belonged to someone slightly smaller.
Tessa leaned against the wall, looking pleased. "There."
Darcy stared at herself. "This is a crime."
"I can see half my legs."
"That is generally how skirts work."
"Remember to bring your own next time then."
Darcy sighed before adjusting the hem.
Then, because she was Tessa, she ruined the moment. "Steve Harrington is definitely going to notice."
Darcy froze. Slowly. "Don't."
"You show up in his car in the morning then pretend people aren't going to notice?"
Darcy rolled her eyes. "It is not about Steve."
Tessa raised her hands. "I believe you."
Darcy narrowed her eyes. "You don't."
The problem with Hawkins High was that it was very good at reminding people who they were supposed to be.
By second period, the whispers had already become background noise. Darcy had learned quickly that there were two ways to deal with being talked about.
You could fight it. Or you could pretend you didn't hear.
She had become very good at the second one.
A smile here. A joke there. A perfectly timed eye roll when someone inevitably asked if she and Steve Harrington were "a thing."
The answer was still no. It had always been no. That didn't stop Hawkins from treating it like a much more interesting answer.
She was at her locker when she heard it.
Steve looked over. One of the basketball players, Tommy Hagan, was leaning against the lockers beside him.
Tommy nodded toward Darcy. "Your reputation."
Darcy looked up from her books.
Steve glanced between them. "What about it?"
Tommy grinned. "Everyone knows you have a type."
A few people nearby laughed. Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what that means?"
"No," Steve said immediately.
Which was probably the correct answer. Tommy ignored him. "Come on, Harrington. Before Wheeler, you were always with the cheerleaders."
Darcy felt the conversation shift. Not because it was insulting. Because everyone was waiting.
Waiting for Steve to do what Steve Harrington always did. Make it funny. Make it easy. Make himself untouchable.
And for one second, she saw him hesitate. Just a second.
Then the old smile appeared.
Steve looked at Darcy. "She's different."
Darcy blinked. Different. It was meant as a compliment. She knew that.
Everyone else seemed to know that too. But something about it bothered her. Because different was just another word for not like the others.
And suddenly she wondered how many times Steve had said things like that without thinking.
How many times he had decided someone was interesting because they were an exception.
Tommy laughed. "Yeah, because she's not from here."
Steve shrugged. "Exactly."
The hallway moved around them. People laughing. Lockers slamming. Someone shouting from the other end.
But Darcy stayed still. Because she remembered him last night. Sitting alone in his car. Looking like he didn't know what to do with himself.
She remembered the quiet voice. The apology. The sandwich wrapped neatly in paper.
And she had made the mistake of thinking that version of him had replaced this one.
It hadn't. It was just another part of him.
"Anyway," Steve said, looking back at her. "You coming to the game tonight?"
The question was casual. Like nothing had happened.
Darcy smiled. Because she was Darcy Hargrove. And Darcy Hargrove knew how to smile.
And Darcy hated that she was disappointed. Because the worst part was that he hadn't even done anything terrible.
He had just been Steve Harrington. And somehow that was more complicated.
By lunch, the entire school had settled into the new reality.
Not that Darcy and Steve were together. Because they weren't. But that something had happened.
Something interesting. And Hawkins High loved interesting.
Darcy sat with Tessa, Chrissy, Quinn and Liz near the usual table in the cafeteria. The same table they always sat at. The same people stopping by. The same casual conversations.
Except every few minutes, someone found an excuse to walk past.
Darcy noticed. Everyone noticed.
Chrissy leaned closer. "Darce, do you know?"
Darcy looked at her. "Know what?"
"Apparently Harrington and Wheeler broke up. Jason told me."
Darcy glanced around the cafeteria. Steve sat across the room with his friends.
There weren't many people on his table. Or at least, less than usual. Nancy was at another table. Jonathan Byers was talking to her, their conversation serious.
And Steve looked like he was trying very hard not to look over.
"He looks miserable," Liz said quietly.
Darcy followed her gaze. For a second, she forgot everyone else was there. Because she knew that expression. She had seen it the night before.
The moment after the mask disappeared.
The moment when Steve stopped being Steve Harrington and became just a kid who had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Quinn. Her voice softened. "Darce."
Darcy looked away. "What?"
Darcy frowned. "About what?"
Quincy shrugged. "Nothing."
Eddie found her sitting on the hood of Billy's Camaro. Which was becoming an alarming habit.
"You look like somebody insulted your dog."
Darcy didn't look up. "I don't have a dog."
She rolled her eyes. Eddie climbed onto the hood beside her.
For a minute, neither of them said anything.
Eddie nodded. "Breaking news."
"No, I mean" She sighed. "I thought he was different."
That made Eddie look at her. "Different how?"
Darcy picked at the edge of her sleeve. "I don't know."
Which was unusual. She always had an answer. "He just..."
She stopped. Because saying it out loud sounded ridiculous. "He was different last night."
Eddie's expression softened slightly. "Yeah."
She didn't say it. But Eddie understood. "And today?"
Darcy looked away. "Today he was Steve Harrington again."
Eddie nodded slowly. "Ah."
He sighed. "You're doing the thing."
Darcy frowned. "What thing?"
"The thing where you meet someone once when they're vulnerable and decide you've suddenly discovered their true self or something."
She opened her mouth. Then closed it.
"I saw him and he was upset."
Eddie tilted his head. "And you decided that someone was you?"
Eddie looked at her. "Did he ask?"
The question irritated her immediately. Not because it was wrong. Because it was the same question she had been avoiding.
"Maybe." Eddie shrugged. "But Darcy..."
He nudged her shoulder. "You don't have to earn being important by being useful."
She looked at him. That one hit harder. Because she didn't like how close it was.
Eddie smiled slightly. "You're very good at helping."
"That sounds like a compliment."
She laughed despite herself. Eddie looked toward the school building. "Look, Harrington can be a good guy."
Darcy glanced over. "And?"
"And he can also be a dumbass who says things because people laugh when he does."
She smiled slightly. "That sounds accurate."
"People are complicated."
Darcy went quiet. Eddie looked back at her silently.
She frowned. “Are you high? Where are these revelations coming from? You should look into becoming a shrink.”
The pre-game ritual at Tessa’s house was older than most of the friendships involved.
Nobody had officially decided that everyone would get ready there before every home game. It had simply happened once, maybe years ago, and then continued because nobody wanted to be the person who broke tradition. Darcy found her way in quickly.
Tessa’s house was perfect for it.
A sprawling split level ranch at the edge of town, with white siding, perfectly trimmed hedges, and a kitchen that always smelled faintly like whatever candle her mother had bought that week. It was the kind of house that appeared in magazines about suburban living.
The kind of house where everything had a place. Except on game nights. On game nights, it became chaos.
The living room floor disappeared beneath cheer bags, makeup cases, hairbrushes, and discarded jackets. The coffee table was covered in open palettes and half-empty cups of soda. Music played quietly from the record player in the corner, competing with four different conversations happening at once.
It was familiar. Easy. The kind of normal Darcy had been missing more than she wanted to admit.
Half the cheer team had plans with boyfriends, while the rest were arriving separately.
Darcy sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the full-length mirror while Tessa stood behind her, fighting with the ribbon in her hair.
Darcy looked at her reflection. "You realize this is a terrifying thing to hear from someone holding a curling iron."
Across the room, Chrissy was sitting on the floor with her legs tucked underneath her, carefully applying mascara while Liz attempted to curl her own hair without burning herself.
"I still think Jason is actually sweet," Chrissy said.
Tessa giggled. "Chrissy Elizabeth Carver."
"You just like him ‘cause he's good at basketball"
Chrissy laughed. "He remembered I liked cherry."
Liz nodded in agreement. "That's actually kind of sweet."
Tessa groaned. “suddenly everyone is falling for boys because they remember drinks and grilled cheese."
Darcy glared at Tessa. She’d only told that story to the girls when they asked what happened in the car at lunch.
"I was simply making an observation about how thoughtful gestures seem to be very important lately."
Darcy picked up a makeup sponge and threw it at her.
Tessa caught it. "Violence."
Liz looked between them. "Wait."
Darcy immediately knew where this was going. "No."
Liz ignored her. "Is this about Steve?"
"Why did you answer so quickly?"
"Because I knew what you were going to say."
"Which means it was about Steve."
Darcy groaned. "You are all unbearable. I'm actually gonna get up and walk home."
Chrissy smiled. "But you like us."
Unfortunately, Darcy did. She looked around the room. At the girls she had somehow ended up with. The girls who had gone from strangers to friends without her really noticing.
They made Hawkins feel less like somewhere she was trapped and more like somewhere she belonged.
Tessa smiled triumphantly. "Exactly."
Twenty minutes later, everyone was dressed.
The green and gold uniforms had transformed them into something completely different.
At school, they were just girls. At games, they were part of the performance. Music. Cheering. Lights. Crowd. Half of the town watching.
Darcy stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleeves of her sweater. "Still think this skirt is too short"
Tessa leaned against the doorframe. "You had time to go home and get yours"
"No I didn't! It would have taken me ages to go home and back. And Billy wouldn't drive me anyway."
"You look fine. You look good."
Darcy glanced at her. "Thank you."
Tessa smiled. Then immediately ruined the sincerity. "Steve will probably agree."
Darcy turned. "Tessa. Please."
"What?" Tessa laughed. "Okay, okay."
She held up her hands. "No more Steve."
The conversation moved on. Or at least, it attempted to. Liz was the one who changed the subject.
"Wait." Everyone looked at her.
She pointed at Darcy. "I just realized something."
Darcy immediately became suspicious. "What?"
"What's your middle name?"
The question was so unexpected that Darcy actually paused. "What?"
"Your middle name." "Why?"
"Because I know everyone else's."
Tessa nodded. "She's right."
Chrissy looked curious. "What is it?"
Darcy looked between them. There was no escaping this. She sighed. "Bentley."
"Like the car?" Liz asked.
Tessa stared. "Your parents named you after a luxury vehicle?"
Quincy nudged her shoulder. "But yes."
"Darcy Bentley Hargrove." Liz said it slowly. Like she was testing it. "That sounds exactly like someone who gets driven to school in a BMW."
Darcy covered her face. "Oh my God."
Chrissy laughed. "I kind of love it."
"My sister Max calls me Ben."
Liz immediately sat up. "Wait."
"Your sister calls you Ben?"
"Sometimes. She thinks it's funny because we both have boy names."
Tessa pointed. "Okay, no. That's actually adorable."
Darcy groaned. "I hate that you all think my family is funny."
Darcy threw a pillow at her.
A few minutes later, everyone was ready. The room was quieter now. The chaos had settled.
The music was still playing softly, and the girls sat around eating popcorn straight from the bowl in the middle of the floor.
For a moment, it felt completely normal.
Then Liz looked at Darcy. "So."
Darcy immediately sighed. "What?"
"The tone before you say something annoying."
Liz smiled. "Okay, but hypothetically, if Steve Harrington made you another sandwich tomorrow"
Darcy looked horrified. "Why would he? Guys be serious. He's miserable today. I bet he can't go an hour without thinking about Wheeler."
Tessa answered. "The point is that we would have to start planning."
Chrissy smiled. "The wedding."
Darcy stared at all four of them. "You are insane."
"A warm sandwich," Tessa said seriously, "with neatly folded paper."
Liz nodded thoughtfully. "You're right."
Darcy relaxed. "Thank you."
Her expression dropped. "What?"
"Because it means he put actual effort into it."
Annoyingly, she knew they were right. Because the sandwich wasn't really the point. It was that Steve Harrington had noticed. And remembered. And cared enough to do something about it. Which was much more inconvenient.
"Game starts in an hour," Tessa announced, standing up.
Everyone groaned and began gathering their things. Darcy grabbed her bag.
As she followed them out of the room, she caught herself smiling. Which was annoying. Because she had spent most of the day insisting nothing was happening.
And unfortunately, her face seemed to have forgotten that.
By the time Darcy got home, the excitement of the day had already started to feel strangely distant. That was the thing about Hawkins.
Everything happened loudly while it was happening.
The whispers in the hallway. The looks in the parking lot. The way people suddenly found reasons to stand near the lockers when something interesting happened.
And then, eventually, the town got bored. The rumours moved on. The conversations shifted. People went home.
Darcy had spent the entire day being watched. First because she had arrived in Steve Harrington’s car. Then because everyone wanted to know what that meant.
Then because Tessa had spent lunch making increasingly dramatic comments about “the Harrington situation” until Darcy had threatened to throw a carton of milk at her.
By the end of the day, she was exhausted.
Not physically. Socially.
There was a particular kind of tiredness that came from being known by everyone.
Being popular at Hawkins High meant never really being alone. Someone always wanted something. Someone always had a question. Someone always had an opinion.
Darcy had learned how to handle it.It was easy. Most of the time.
But when she finally stepped through the front door of the house on Cherry Lane, she was grateful for the silence.
The house was dark. Not empty. Just quiet.
She dropped her bag near the stairs and kicked off her shoes, listening.
Nothing. No television. No music. No shouting. Just the low hum of the old refrigerator in the kitchen.
For a moment, she wondered if anyone was even home. Then she heard it.
A sound upstairs. Not crying. Just movement. A drawer opening. Something being moved around.
Darcy frowned slightly and climbed the stairs. "Max?"
No answer. She walked down the hallway and stopped outside Max's bedroom.
The door was mostly closed. Which was unusual. Max hated closed doors. Closed doors meant people were trying to keep things from you.
Darcy knocked lightly. "Maxie?"
"Go away." The answer came too quickly.
Darcy leaned against the doorframe. "You sure? Doesnt sound like you’re okay."
Silence. Darcy waited. She was good at waiting. It was something she had learned after moving to Hawkins.
People here had a habit of pretending they didn't need anyone until they were sure someone would stay.
Finally, Max sighed. "Fine."
Darcy pushed the door open.
Max was sitting on the floor beside her bed, surrounded by a mess of papers, old magazines, and clothes she had clearly decided she hated halfway through sorting.
Her skateboard was leaning against the wall. Her headphones were tangled beside it. She looked annoyed. Which, for Max, usually meant she was upset.
Darcy stepped inside. "What happened?"
Darcy crossed her arms. "You're terrible at lying."
Max looked up. "So are you."
The response caught Darcy off guard.
"You always say you're fine when you're not." The room went quiet.
For a second, Darcy forgot that Max was eleven.
Because sometimes Max looked so much younger than she acted.
And sometimes she was the most observant person in the room. Darcy sat down on the floor beside her.
"Okay," she said softly. "Fair."
Max picked at a loose thread on her jeans. "They're being stupid."
Darcy nodded. That was not surprising. "Boys are usually stupid."
"No, like... really stupid."
"Ah. Advanced stupidity."
Max rolled her eyes. "Very funny."
She looked down. For a moment, she didn't say anything. "They don't want me around anymore."
The words were quiet. Almost like she didn't want Darcy to hear them.
Darcy's expression softened. "what?"
"They have their stupid little club, and they won't tell me anything. They just disappear and whisper and act like I'm not there."
She picked at her sleeve. "And theyre obsessed with this fucking lizard thing. Its gross anyways."
Darcy didn't answer immediately. Because she understood. Not the details.
Not the monsters or the secrets or whatever impossible thing the boys were always getting themselves involved in, because she didnt know that.
But she knew the feeling of arriving somewhere new and realizing everyone else already had a place. Everyone else already belonged. And you were just trying to figure out where you fit.
"You know you're allowed to be upset, right?"
"No. Not 'I guess.' You are."
Darcy nudged her shoulder gently. "You moved across the country. You lost your old life. You had to start over in a town where everyone already knew each other. That's not exactly easy."
Max swallowed. "You did it."
Darcy laughed quietly. It wasn't a happy laugh. "No, Maxie. I really wasn't."
Darcy leaned back against the side of the bed. "It's better now. Not at the beginning though. I sucked loads."
That seemed to surprise Max.
Max didn't see the mornings where Darcy sat in her room wondering if California had been the only place she was ever going to feel like herself.
She didn't see the nights she missed the ocean. The streets. The version of her that existed before Hawkins.
"Sometimes," Darcy continued, "you can miss something and still be okay."
"Do you miss California?"
The question was so simple it hurt. Darcy looked around Max's room. The skateboard posters. The old records. The pieces of a life Max had been forced to leave behind.
"Even though you like it here?"
Darcy smiled slightly. "Yeah."
Max nodded slowly. "I think I miss it too."
There it was. The real answer. Not anger. Not frustration. Just missing something.
Darcy reached over and pulled Max into a side hug. Max resisted for approximately two seconds before giving in.
"You're annoying," Max mumbled.
"And your hugs are too long."
"And you're weirdly optimistic."
Max sighed into her shoulder. "But you're not the worst."
Darcy smiled. "I'll take it."
They sat there for a while. No fixing. No big speeches.
Just two girls in a bedroom in Indiana, both missing places that no longer existed the way they remembered them.
Eventually, Darcy stood up. "Okay."
Max looked up. "Okay what?"
Max immediately looked suspicious. "No."
"I don't care what the boys are doing."
Max groaned. "We're not watching some stupid romance movie."
"And we're not baking anything healthy."
"And if you make those weird California cookies–"
"The ones with too much chocolate?"
"The ones you burn because you forget the timer."
"It happened three times."
Darcy pointed at her. "You're remembering a lot of things for someone who claims to hate my cooking."
Max tried not to smile. Failed. "Fine."
"But we burn the cookies on purpose."
And for the first time all day, Darcy stopped feeling like everyone was looking at her.
No rumours. No whispers. No expectations. Just Max.
And honestly? That was probably better.
note: phew that was a long one. i wanted to focus a bit on Darcy's relationships with Tessa, Quincy, Liz and Chrissy, because her life is more than steve and the party. you're in luck, though, because the monster stuff starts next chapter!
Taglist: @strangegirl26sff @kurtsw7rld96 @mhayes777
